


dancing through the darkness of the night

by Waistcoat35



Series: they slipped briskly into an intimacy from which they never recovered [17]
Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: I've written so many of these I almost feel like I should apologise for being unable to stfu, M/M, Thomas hasn't even realised he's got a crush on Richard yet the fucking idiot, Ugh, Yearning, and I'm just a dumb dumb, anyway they accidentally brush arms or something and instantly lose their internal shit idk, dummy boy, he's just like 'wish we could be friends ;-;', huge amounts of UST, seriously they're both so whipped for each other, the first one of these actually set within canon I think, then I remember that you're reading this willingly, well done me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:33:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24918409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Waistcoat35/pseuds/Waistcoat35
Summary: “Watch your step.”
Relationships: Thomas Barrow/Richard Ellis
Series: they slipped briskly into an intimacy from which they never recovered [17]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1772770
Comments: 12
Kudos: 60





	dancing through the darkness of the night

_“Watch your step.”_

They get back to Downton at some ridiculous late hour - Thomas would check his watch, but such a thing would require him to look away from Mr Ellis for a few moments and, with the house not too far away now as they stroll towards it, he wants to savour every remaining moment he can drink in the sight of him without having to worry about who else could be watching. The gravel crunches under their shoes, and as low as their voices are pitched so as not to be heard by those inside, it's hard for him to hear the other side of their discussion over the noise. Hear it he does, though, and what a discussion it is.

 _"Fifty years ago, who'd have thought a man could fly?"_

They talked in the boot room and the corridors on Ellis' first day at the house, they talked in the servant's hall once Thomas had been put off-duty, they'd talked in the car on the way to York, on the walk to a pub - just about the entire time. (Aside from the drive back, in which it had mostly been Ellis talking to distract Thomas from how he was still feeling vaguely sick.) 

They just can't seem to stop talking - they could probably carry on with it for one of Ellis' sets of fifty years. There have been so many people who Thomas hasn't been able to talk to without it feeling like he's pulling teeth - but Ellis is not one of them. It's as though he knows what Thomas is going to answer to a question he'll be asking in ten minutes' time - something just clicks. Thomas is the worn-old clock whose gears' sharp teeth have been blunted and worn with use and age, and Richard is a shiny new cog that fits just right and makes everything tick smoothly along again. He can only hope that they will tick along just as smoothly tomorrow, when Ellis is gone.

 _It's tomorrow now_ , that dull, seething, traitorous part of his mind reminds him. He hates how it's the cleverest part, and yet it makes him say and do the stupidest things. _It's tomorrow now, and soon he'll be gone, and you won't get him back and you won't see him again. He'll be off, back to London, away from you and away from all of your trouble._

He kind of feels as though he wants to cry, actually, because he likes Ellis - genuinely, really _likes_ him. And he doesn't like very many people- the whole damn house could testify to that. He likes him, and he doesn't want him to go, and aside from Baxter he's one of the only people Thomas can talk to who doesn't make him feel lonely even when in company. And he knows, about Thomas, and he doesn't mind - he's the _same_. 

_I've never just talked to someone like me._

_Well, we're talking now._

God.

_God._

He could be a friend.

Thomas wants so, so badly for him to be his friend.

(And there's something among the turning and roiling in his stomach that insists there's something else to it as well, something more - but he won't know what it is until the roiling stops, like waiting for the silt to settle on a riverbed before you can make out the fish again.) 

They get to the door, at last, and it is a sign of how distracted he's been by Ellis that he forgets about the low step as you walk in - which is embarrassing, really, considering that he's the one who lives in the house and Ellis is visiting. His shoe catches on it (the drinks likely haven't helped, either) and he stumbles for a sickening moment - 

Somehow, Ellis catches him. He's apparently heard the thud of Thomas' shoe and the step connecting, and turns with sudden speed, catching Thomas with an arm around Thomas' torso and a hand on his shoulder to steady him. Thomas just hangs there for a moment, limp, while he waits for his heartbeat to leak back out of his ears, tries not to let himself breathe too quickly, too loudly. He's already been a pale, timid mess in front of Ellis tonight - the least he can do is try to improve things now. 

"Whoa," Ellis murmurs lowly, as though talking to a horse that keeps trying to bolt. He's warm, very warm, Thomas notices - the warmth feels like it's soaking into him through their clothes, transmitted from Ellis' hands to him, and it's nice, because he's almost never anything but cold. "Careful there, Mr Barrow. Wouldn't want you to do yourself a mischief after I've just gotten you back in one piece, would we?" Thomas wants to bristle a little bit, because the words should be patronising at best, but -

_I've just gotten you back_

_I've gotten you back_

_I've got you_

Yeah. He's a bit caught up on that part.

He gives a weak nod, nevertheless, and manages to straighten back up, lean on the wall a second until the adrenaline dies off. The hand on his shoulder hasn't moved, and he's not about to request that it does. "Thanks," he breathes. "Of all the things to catch me out, eh?" 

Ellis merely gives a slip of a smile, lifts his chin, brows raised. It's different to the one he's given to others over the visit - wily and winning and open. This one seems more private, less like Ellis is trying to persuade Thomas to like him, and somehow that makes Thomas like him even more. He stops leaning, at which point the hand slips away, regrettably, and they carry on into the kitchen. The moment, however, is filed away for Thomas to lie awake analysing later.

(He does - and somewhere along the line he comes to the conclusion that - oh, _fuck_. He might feel a little bit more for Richard than that. Because that's what Ellis' Christian name is, told to him in the kitchen. It suits him. Sometimes, Thomas thinks, you look at someone and you can't imagine them having any other name than the one they've got. Or, if they're not likeable, you can. But Richard _is_ likeable, isn't he, for God's sake.) 

Suddenly, all the strange, inexplicable feelings he's had all day make sense - he hadn't recognised them, he thinks, because he's not quite used to falling in love in a way that doesn't hurt. But now he does - and of course he's got a crush on the valet to the _king of bloody England_.

Thomas Barrow has a crush.

On the valet to the king of bloody England. 

He rolls over in bed, and smirks to himself - 

Only when Mr Miller's ill, that is. 


End file.
